For Faded Glory
by Artemis1000
Summary: Ten years after Starkiller, the sad remains of the Resistance and the Knights of Ren are trapped in an uneasy alliance. Poe and Kylo are ensnared in something nameless that is even more complicated. This is their quiet, before the storm of a last stand. Part 1 of Uneasy Allies verse, continued in Small Victories.


Notes: Written for Day 1 of Knightpilot Week - Bad Guys Win AU. Part 1 of Uneasy Allies Verse AU. Part 2 is Small Victories.

 **For Faded Glory**

"Happy Anniversary, General Dameron."

Poe tears his gaze away from the depressing sight in the hangar, the too few too old too battered X-Wings being prepped for the next battle that might as well be their last.

These days, they don't go into battle anymore expecting that they will win. Life taught harsh lessons, and theirs had been harsher than most. Today's different, though, today is all but guaranteed to be their last fight for real.

He quirks his lips into a sad little copy of his old smile, it comes out more cynical than intended. But then again, Kylo Ren is the last man who can point fingers at you for having been turned bitter by life.

"Thanks." He accepts the bottle of something blue and ominously smoking. It tastes sickly sweet, but it burns down his throat and settles warm in his belly. "It's a real party down there."

Poe leans against the railing again, he frowns as he watches the sad leftovers of what had once been his squad work on their ships. It's been a while since they had proper full-time mechanics to maintain their fleet. Probably back when they had something deserving to be called a fleet.

"I can't believe it's been ten years since Starkiller."

Kylo hums his agreement. He stands next to Poe and copies his stance.

Poe watches him from the corner of his eyes. He doesn't look too different from the man Poe had met on Jakku, still clad in black, still carrying that ominously crackling red lightsaber. The ugly duck helmet's gone, revealing black hair streaked with the first strands of grey much like Poe's own. His once pretty boy face shows his age and some. The past ten years have aged them all like twenty.

"How does it feel to know you've changed sides to the losing side?"

Kylo doesn't even look at him. "How does it feel to know you're sleeping with someone you would be fighting, if you could still afford to be picky?"

He flinches, he can't help it. Poe takes another gulp of the blue swig. "I see. Not pulling any punches today."

"The Dark Side won't coddle you."

Poe's lips curl into a full-fledged sneer this time. "That's rich, coming from you." Rich coming from Ren with the most volatile-fragile ego of all, but most of all because Poe is so damn sick of hearing Dark Side this, Dark Side that as if these flaws are something separate from the man.

Kylo just snorts, as if Poe's disdain is beneath him.

Maybe it is. Maybe they aren't even lovers, it would fit with the theme of the alliance between the Resistance and the Knights of Ren – not an alliance, just a marriage of convenience between wounded animals who can't afford to fight more than one enemy at a time.

They hadn't had a choice. When Snoke gave his trust to his Praetorian Guard instead, the Knights of Ren had become a loose end that begged to be tied up. Delivering the remaining Resistance members to Snoke had been among the terms of the New Republic's surrender.

"I can't believe it's been a mere ten years." Poe swallows hard against the tightness in his throat. "Maybe things would be different if she were still…"

Ren growls, and Poe falls silent.

He still doesn't know if Kylo refuses to speak of his mother's death because his grief or his hate is too strong to bear it. He's never dared dig too deep, has never truly tried to learn the answer in case it is one he doesn't want to hear.

"It's true, you're not much of a savior."

Poe shoots him a withering look. Cute. "Like you are?"

Ren rolls his shoulders lazily. "I'm a Sith."

"You're not. You went and declared yourself a Sith to spite your old Master. It's not the same."

Kylo opens his mouth and Poe has no doubt that he has all kinds of cutting retorts at the ready, but he silences him with a shake of his head. Poe crosses what distance there is between them, Kylo turns towards him without need for any prompting and reaches for him.

With a start Poe realizes that ten years since Starkiller also means ten years since Kylo murdered Han Solo and with him any chance to return to the man he had once been. Fat load of good it has done him, too.

He places his hands on Kylo's shoulders, fingers smoothing over the creases of his ragged cowl.

Kylo makes no move to kiss him, and neither does Poe. They are still the General of the Resistance and the Master of the Knights of Ren. Tarnished and battered, but they still have their roles to play.

"Rally your troops. We're leaving tonight."

"I know."

Poe nods. They had made the plans together in countless all-night sessions, arguing and bartering until they had reached an uneasy equilibrium. That is how most agreements are made. It's always a struggle, but everything is these days, and Poe has learned not to begrudge it.

"I wouldn't have thought last stands are still your style."

He smiles. It feels the realest any smile has felt in a long time. "Goes to show how well you know me, huh?"

"I love you," Kylo replies, and like so often Poe wonders why he even bothers. He's learned his lore well. The Dark Side doesn't leave enough of you to be capable of love.

"I love you, too," he says, and like every other time he decides that Kylo must be saying it for the same reason as Poe. Pretending is the next best thing to the real deal.

Poe takes another swig from the bottle before he hands it back to Kylo. "Happy Anniversary."

As Kylo wanders off, Poe goes back to watching the battle-worn X-Wings. They can only hope that ten more years down the line, there will be anyone left to raise a glass to them.


End file.
